


For The Future

by eerian_sadow



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Community: the_fic_trader, Friendship, Gen, Gift Fic, Transformers fic exchange, graphic depictions of damage, graphic depictions of injuries, injuries, mental disabilities, taking care of an injured mech
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-26
Updated: 2011-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-15 04:44:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2216262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this cheerfully ignores a lot of the canon from ROTF and the very existence of DOTM. NEST and the Diego Garcia base are nowhere to be found here, along with just about anything else that could harsh the fluffiness. Anything that can be found on ROTF Scavenger’s TFWiki page can also be cheerfully ignored. I can’t say he’s prettier in this fic than in ROTF, but he’s more logically designed. ;) Lastly, I’m also using the convention established in “Ghosts of Yesterday”, where Bumblebee speaks via comm signals rather than using sound bites or music clips. It just seems logical, for a race of robotic beings that have built-in communication arrays, after all.</p><p>originally posted <a href="http://the-fic-trader.dreamwidth.org/22694.html">here</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	For The Future

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreams_of_all](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=dreams_of_all).



> this cheerfully ignores a lot of the canon from ROTF and the very existence of DOTM. NEST and the Diego Garcia base are nowhere to be found here, along with just about anything else that could harsh the fluffiness. Anything that can be found on ROTF Scavenger’s TFWiki page can also be cheerfully ignored. I can’t say he’s prettier in this fic than in ROTF, but he’s more logically designed. ;) Lastly, I’m also using the convention established in “Ghosts of Yesterday”, where Bumblebee speaks via comm signals rather than using sound bites or music clips. It just seems logical, for a race of robotic beings that have built-in communication arrays, after all.
> 
> originally posted [here](http://the-fic-trader.dreamwidth.org/22694.html).

It was dark when they sent him out on patrol, which was normal. Sam rested better if he didn’t know his guardian was away, and Bumblebee did his work better if he knew his charge wasn’t overly stressed. He knew that he could trust Ironhide to keep the boy safe for a few hours, but Sam didn’t have that same faith in the old warrior. It wasn’t an insult to Ironhide’s skills; they just hadn’t built up a rapport through several life-or-death experiences.

But rapport or no, it was nice to get out and carry out the tasks he was designed for.

Tonight, Ratchet had his scouting out the locations of local scrap yards and junk dealers. They needed parts to keep themselves in good repair, and human-made parts were better than nothing at all. Bumblebee wasn’t programmed with enough medical knowledge to be able to accurately catalogue all the things in the junkyards that would server their needs, but he did know enough to know what could be potentially useful and what wouldn’t. he had found five reasonably useful locations inside the city already tonight, though there had been others that had allowed the salvaged vehicles inside to simply deteriorate into rust, and had one more stop to make before going back home to Sam.

This particular scrap yard actually looked a bit more promising that the others, despite the fact that it was on the edge of the city and very exposed to the local weather conditions. There were many vehicles inside that looked large enough to contain the kinds of components that Optimus Prime would require if something should happen to him, and many other things that could be rigged to fit Ironhide if needed. It also seemed to contain…

…A Cybertronian energy signature.

The scout froze when the signal crossed his scanners. He knew all of the Autobots on-planet were currently accounted for and that there hadn’t been any new arrivals recorded or reported by their systems or the humans’ media outlets. That left a Decepticon as the only probable source.

Carefully, and as quietly as possible, he transformed and crept toward the section of the scrap yard the signal was coming from. He was going to have to take a closer look to see who was hiding in there, and hope that they weren’t someone who outclassed him too much.

Bumblebee assembled a data packet containing his location, the sensor readings he had gotten of the energy signature and his intent to investigate further and sent it to the base as he ventured in. none of the other Autobots were close enough to provide backup—expect for Ironhide who wouldn’t leave Sam right now unless there was dire need—but the data packet would give them a place to start looking if he didn’t report back in. Optimus and Ironhide would both scold him later for not waiting, but it was possible that the Decepticon already knew he was here and would either attack or make a run for it and those were risks Bumblebee wasn’t willing to take.

The light got weaker as he crept into the scrap yard. The walls blocked some of the street lights and the derelict vehicles blocked more. The lack of illumination made the whole place look uncomfortably like the aftermath of a battle, an image that was only reinforced as he moved through the broken and rusted piles of discarded cars, trucks and machinery. He shuddered as he stepped past a bright red vehicle—smashed in at the front—that could have easily been Cliffjumper. Another vehicle further into the lot could have been Ironhide and a rusting ambulance not far past that reminded him uncomfortably of Ratchet.

Bumblebee forced his attention back to the task at hand before he could match a vehicle in the lot to every mech he knew. He had to find the Decepticon, not give himself waking nightmares of his friends and team being offline and in a scrap heap.

The energy signal became more readable as he drew closer. Without even having to access the basic medical knowledge Ratchet had given him, Bumblebee could make out irregularities in the signature that indicated damage. Cautiously, he activated his cannon. An injured Decepticon was still a dangerous Decepticon, and this one was in very bad shape.

It was almost a surprise when he found the Decepticon as he came around a row of old fire engines. The other mech’s energy signature hadn’t felt strong enough for him to be that close, but the Decepticon shield etched into the glass of the vehicle’s cab windows left no doubt as to the source. The Decepticon was resting among a group of decommissioned and severely damaged construction vehicles, a place where he blended in perfectly. Bumblebee’s fuel pump gave an uncomfortable lurch at the realization that he was dealing with a Constructicon and not just a standard shock troop.

Where one Constructicon was, others were bound to follow.

The scout stepped back quickly, ducking back behind the fire engines and reassessing the situation. He broadened the scope of his sensor scans, checking and double checking for the presence of additional Decepticons that he might have missed. There was nothing else, but that did little to ease his discomfort; if there were other Constructicons hiding in the dark outside his sensor range, he was scrap.

Bumblebee forced himself to remain calm. Panic wouldn’t do him a bit of good and running away because there might be other Constructicons around only meant that a verified Decepticon would get away. He compiled another data packet, this time containing what identification data he had on the Constructicon and an official request for backup and sent it to the base. Then he stepped back out from his cover.

He had known the Decepticon would be in bad shape, but when he really looked at the mech, he had to reassess the threat level. Large portions of the mech’s armor were dented and carbon scored, and many portions were actually melted. The glass in his cab windows was cracked or broken out completely and a ragged stump of… something jutted out into the air like a useless limb.

It was a sad sight to see, even if it was an enemy that was so heavily damaged.

//Unknown Decepticon,// Bumblebee hoped that his comm signal would actually get through to the other mech; speaking out loud in Cybertronian was still incredibly difficult for him. //You are now in the custody of the Autobots. Identify yourself.//

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, the Constructicon transformed. Metal shrieked as the mech forced himself through his transformation sequence and more than one armor plate ripped off and fell to the ground in a crumpled mess. Other damaged plates cut through cables and vital tubing, spraying energon and other less-identifiable fluids across the Decepticon and onto the ground. The other mech wailed with pain and tried to bring his weapon to bear, but his arm wouldn’t raise enough for him to be able to point it at Bumblebee.

The Autobot felt slightly ill at the damage the Constructicon had caused himself. He had seen mechs come back from the frontlines of battle with less damage than this. //Identify yourself,// the scout repeated.

The Constructicon let out another wail in response, this one sounding less like pain and more like a hatchling’s piteous cry for protection.

//Identify yourself and surrender.// Bumblebee found himself taking a step closer to the injured mech in response to that piteous wailing, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he thought he was going to do. //Come peacefully and we will give you medical assistance.//

The Constructicon increased the volume of his wails at the scout’s offer. It wasn’t hard to see that he was afraid and calling out to his teammates for help and protection.

Bumblebee felt strangely sorry for him. He took another step toward the Decepticon, coming close enough to touch, and powered down his cannon. //We will not harm you. I give you my word.//

The Constructicon looked at him, fear and pain written across his face. But any reply he might have made was prevented by one of his knee joints—spindly and weak looking at the best of times—giving out with a pop and a shower of sparks. The mech wailed again in pain and surprise.

Bumblebee moved quickly to catch him as he fell. //It’s all right. We’ll help you.//

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Ironhide had, unsurprisingly, wanted to shoot the Constructicon. Ratchet, just as unsurprisingly, was outraged at the damage to the mech and had wanted to begin immediate repairs. The situation was only prevented from degenerating into one of their usual arguments—the kind that Ratchet always won because he could argue and weld at the same time—by the fact that Ironhide wasn’t actually at the scrap yard with them.

What had surprised Bumblebee later, after the Constructicon had been stabilized and taken back to the base for real repairs, was that Sam agreed with the weapons master. The scout had always thought that the boy was more compassionate, but Sam had been just as adamant about shooting the Constructicon as Ironhide.

Any Decepticon was, apparently, a bad Decepticon.

At another time, Bumblebee might have agreed, but he had heard the fear and pain in the Constructicon’s voice and he had seen real fright on the other mech’s face. He couldn’t see this Decepticon in the same light anymore.

Sam had declined to stay at the base with them that night, too angry with Bumblebee about the Decepticon to be comfortable there. Instead of spending the morning with Sam the way he normally did, the scout found himself in Ratchet’s small repair bay instead, looking over the half-repaired mech while Ratchet rested and refueled.

“Ratchet feels certain that our guest will survive.”

Bumblebee nodded at Optimus’ words. //Yes, sir. Has there been any progress in identifying him?//

“There has not. He was too damaged for us to make a visual match to any of the known Constructicons.” The Prime put a comforting hand on the scout’s shoulder. “It is not imperative that we identify him immediately. We can simply ask his designation when he comes back online.”

//Knowing his name would be nice, though. Calling him “that Decepticon” or “the Constructicon” isn’t going to do much to forward friendly intentions.//

“Neither would hacking his processor for the information.” Optimus gave him a small smile. “It will wait, for a while anyway. Right now, it is enough that he is receiving the repairs he was obviously in need of.”

Bumblebee nodded, feeling a bit of relief in knowing that Optimus thought he had done the right thing. Sam might still be angry at him in a few hours, but the Constructicon would be alive and on the road to recovery. That alone was worth a bit of the boy’s disapproval.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The Constructicon lay in the repair bay for three days before he came back online.

Bumblebee split as much of his time between watching over the mech and staying with Sam as possible. As a result, he was in town with the Human when the Decepticon came back online.

Ratchet sounded more than a bit stressed when he called to let him know. //Bumblebee, your guest is awake.//

Bumblebee’s face fell as he heard something that sounded like screaming over the comm line. //Is… something wrong with him?//

//I’m not certain. He’s been doing this for the last hour.// The medic was interrupted briefly by what sounded a brief fight and the screaming quieted down to frightened clicking. //Optimus wants you to come back to base to help me keep him under control before Ironhide gives in to the urge to shoot him.//

//What about Sam?// He glanced up at the boy’s window. //He’s still awake.//

//Sam is old enough to be engaging in intercourse with Mikaela. He can babysit himself for a while.//

Bumblebee almost chuckled at the medic’s dry tone. Biologically, his human charge really was too old to be having the kind of dependency issues Sam did, but they were easy to understand considering that Starscream and Barricade were both still online and knew what had happened in Mission City. //Yes, Ratchet. I’ll tell him what’s going on and then head back to base.//

//Good.// Ratchet cut the connection with no further pleasantries. The scout might have been insulted, if he hadn’t grown so used to it over the vorns.

He mimicked a sigh as he reset his comm system to dial Sam’s cell phone. Sam would be angry and Bumblebee would feel guilty the entire time he was gone, but orders were orders.

</i>“Hey, what’s up?”</i> Sam’s voice sounded a bit worried. _“Did something happen at the base?”_

//The Constructicon is awake. Optimus wants me to head back and help take care of him.//

 _”Right. You’re ditching me for the Decepticon. That’s fine.”_ The scout didn’t miss the hurt laying under his charge’s sarcastic words. _”Is Ironhide coming into town then? Because at least he gets that putting a Decepticon back together again so that it can go right back to killing you all is a bad idea.”_ <

The conversation was, at least, going off in exactly the direction he had anticipated. //Sam, we’ve had this discussion. You know why Optimus and I wanted to help him.//

_”Whatever. Is Ironhide coming or not?”_

//Yes, it’s very likely that Ironhide will be coming into town after I return to the base.//

 _”Good. Then I’ll see you later.”_ The connection to Sam’s phone ended abruptly. A moment later, the Human’s bedroom window slammed shut.

Not for the first time, Bumblebee wished he had a way to make the Human understand their way of thinking more clearly.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Ironhide was storming out of Ratchet’s medbay in a full fury when Bumblebee arrived. The scout could just hear the sound of the Constructicon’s wailing through the door, though it was much quieter than it had been over the comm link.

”Do _something_ with that before I do!” the weapons master snarled as he stomped past.

Bumblebee nodded, though he had no idea what he could do. The Constructicon was still technically their prisoner, after all, and would almost definitely still be terrified of anyone wearing the Autobot shield. //Sam was hoping you would go into town.//

Ironhide didn’t reply, but he did stomp toward the front door. The scout supposed it was all he could reasonably ask for.

He shook his head at the sheer unwillingness to bend that both Ironhide and Sam were showing and then he stepped into the medbay. The Constructicon’s soft wailing was almost painful to hear, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. It really was like listening to a hatchling who was frightened and looking for his guardian.

“If we can’t get him to quiet down,” Ratchet said softly, “I’ll have to put him back under. Even Optimus’ patience is wearing thin.”

Bumblebee had to agree. The constant wail was beyond irritating and he had only been here a few Earth minutes. //I don’t know what I can do.//

“Talk to him. Play music for him.” The medic waved a hand at him. “Be your usually inoffensive self. You’re small and don’t look intimidating, use that to our advantage.”

The scout looked over at the Constructicon sadly. He really wasn’t sure he could help; some things were just ingrained too deeply to move past for some mechs and it looked like this mech’s fear of Autobots could be one of them. //I’ll do my best.//

Ratchet nodded. “I’ll leave you to it, then. If something goes wrong and you need help, just comm; I’ll be close.”

As the medic walked away, Bumblebee moved closer to the repair berth the Constructicon was resting on. The larger mech was sitting up, one leg—the one that hadn’t fallen apart in the scrap yard—clutched tightly against his chest with arms that were laced with old scars and fresh welds. He face was tucked down against his arms and the broken stump of a tail lay limply alongside his damaged leg. The Decepticon was visibly trembling and his wails increased in franticness as Bumblebee approached.

The pose and reaction simply reinforced the image of a very large hatchling in Bumblebee’s processor. And he didn’t have very much experience with hatchlings, but he did remember how the old guardian who lived in his housing complex had treated his charges. Perhaps that would be the right way to handle this mech now.

Though, if it was, that didn’t say good things about the condition of his processor.

//Hey, it’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you.// Bumblebee crouched down in front of the Constructicon, both to appear less threatening and to be able to see up into his face. //Do you remember me from the scrap yard?//

The mech nodded without looking up.

//I didn’t hurt you then, did I? I won’t hurt you now, and I won’t let the others hurt you either.// The scout did his best to keep his body language open and unthreatening. //Can you tell me your designation?//

The Constructicon shook his head.

//But I can’t just call you “hey you” all the time. My designation is Bumblebee and our medic is Ratchet. What’s yours?//

The mech peeked up from his arms, just enough for the Autobot to see a pair of red optics. //Want Scrapper.//

Well, that was progress of a sort. //I know. But none of your teammates are here right now. Ratchet and I are going to take care of you until they come, okay?//

He stared at Bumblebee for a very long moment before burying his face against his arms again. His wails turned to distressed chirping and his trembling didn’t subside. //Want brothers. Want home.//

Bumblebee reached out cautiously and put his hand on the Constructicon’s arm. Red optics immediately shot back up to look at him in fright. //I miss home too. And I know that you’re afraid and that you probably think that we’re going to hurt you or use you to hurt your brothers, but we won’t, I promise. Ratchet and I will take care of you until Scrapper comes, all right?//

Slowly, hesitantly, the Constructicon nodded. His chirping quieted into softer whimpers. //Don’t go?//

//I’ll stay.// Oh this was going to cause problems with Sam. //I can’t take care of you if I’m gone, can I?//

//No.// The Constructicon leaned his head back down, resting his forehead against Bumblebee’s hand. //Hurts everywhere.//

//I bet you do. You were pretty damaged when I found you.// The scout reached up and rubbed the back of the other mech’s head soothingly. //Do you want me to ask Ratchet if he can make you hurt less?//

//Want not hurt. Please ask?//

//All right. I have to get up to go talk to him, though.//

The Constructicon looked at him sadly, but lifted his head so that Bumblebee could remove his hand. //Come back quick?//

//I promise.// He gave the larger mech one last rub along his cranial plates before stepping away. //Be right back.//

He knew the Decepticon was watching him as he stepped out of the medbay to track Ratchet down, but he didn’t dare look back. If he looked back, those sad, scared optics would pull him right back and he needed to talk with Ratchet first. He could handle this, he thought, but he needed to arm himself more adequately.

The medic wasn’t far down the hall and he frowned at Bumblebee’s approach. “Well you got him to quiet down. What else is wrong?”

//He acts like a hatchling. A very new hatchling.// The scout cycled air through his vents in a reasonably good imitation of the sigh Judy made when she didn’t know how to deal with what was going on.

“I was afraid of something like that. His processor and memory cores were severely damaged and some of that damage was very old.” The medic echoed the sigh. “Did you at least get his designation?”

//He wouldn’t tell me when I asked and when he was ready to talk, I didn’t think to ask again.//

“It’s all right. We have plenty of time. He’ll be here for repairs for quite a while.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Bumblebee came out of recharge the next evening to find the Constructicon curled up in a ball next to him. He and Ratchet had both thought it would be best if he recharged in the medbay, just in case the other mech came online early, and apparently that had been a good plan.

From the crook of his arms, the Constructicon’s optics glowed brightly. //Hi.//

The single word, short as it was, sounded nervous. Bumblebee supposed that if he were any other mech on the base, the other mech would be justified in being nervous at being found next to him. //Hi there. How are you feeling?//

//Still hurts.// The Constructicon uncurled a little and scooted closer to him. //Need find parts to fix.//

//Did Ratchet say that?// Bumblebee shifted so that he could settle a hand on the other mech’s back. The Constructicon gave a contented sound at the contact.

//No. Parts not all here.// He waved the stump of his tail demonstratively. //Need parts to fix.//

//What kind of parts do you need? Do you know?//

The Constructicon shrugged one shoulder. //Not medic.//

//Well, I’m sure Ratchet knows.// He rubbed the other mech’s back plates comfortingly. //And I know he had plans for some more repairs today. We’ll figure it out then.//

//Okay. Will it hurt?//

//You won’t feel a thing,// Bumblebee assured him. //Ratchet’s very careful about that.//

//Okay.// The Decepticon snuggled into the Autobot’s side. //I like you. You nice.//

//Thank you.// The scout couldn’t help but chuckle at the statement. It was innocent and naïve, but also very sweet. //I like you too.// _So far, anyway_.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Ratchet disabled the pain receptors in the Constructicon’s lower back with careful fingers. “How does that feel?”

“Don’t feel anything!” He twisted his head around so that he could smile brightly at the medic.

Ratchet returned the smile and then turned his attention to the damaged portion of the mech’s tail. “So what happened here? If I’m not mistaken, it looks like someone snapped it off.”

“Little animals have things that explode. Put them on all trucks.” The happy smile fell off the Constructicon’s face. “Hurt me. Hurt Scrapper. Then other truck take us away. Want Scrapper.”

“Well, the little animals won’t hurt you while you’re here.” The medic paused in his examination of the injured mech’s tail. “And I’m sure that with a little work we can find where they took Scrapper.”

The Constructicon perked up at that. “Really?”

“Yes really. In fact, I’ll send Bumblebee a comm right now so that he can start looking.”

“Okay!”

“You know, Bumblebee never did tell me your designation.” Ratchet activated one of his saws and began removing the most damaged portions of metal from the Constructicon’s tail.

“Oh!” The Constructicon moved so that his arms were curled underneath him. “Um… Scavenger. I’m Scavenger.”

“Nice to meet you, Scavenger.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

During their fourth night together, Bumblebee discovered that Scavenger had bad memory purges. Unfortunately, everyone else on the base found that out, too.

Ironhide burst into the medbay with his cannons primed and humming with barely restrained energy just as Bumblebee was pulling the Constructicon out of recharge so that he would stop screaming. Instead of calming, the injured mech screamed even more loudly when he saw the black mech.

Bumblebee cried out as Scavenger clawed open an energon line in his desperation to escape Ironhide. //Ironhide, back off! He’s afraid!//

//He’s injured you!// The warrior hiked his cannons higher, looking for a good shot.

//Because he’s afraid! Back off!// He wanted to groan when he realized the Human military forces that stayed on their base were milling around Ironhide’s feet, weapons drawn. //And take the Humans with you! They aren’t going to help anything!//

Scavenger screamed again and buried himself against Bumblebee’s chest plates when he realized the scout was not going to let him go. The Autobot curled around his charge, making soothing noises and rubbing the Constructicon’s back plates.

Ironhide growled.

“Ironhide, stand down. Captain Lennox, I advise you and your men to do the same.” Optimus Prime’s voice fell across the room like a blanket of calm.

“You sure you got it, big guy?” Lennox asked.

Bumblebee used the distraction to help calm Scavenger as Optimus replied. “I am certain, Captain. Bumblebee and I can handle one frightened mech.”

“But, Optimus!” Ironhide’s protest got no further than their leader’s name.

“Stand down, Ironhide. Bumblebee and I will handle it.” There was some muttering, but Bumblebee heard the weapons master’s cannons power down. “Perhaps you should take Sam back to town. It seems unlikely that either of you will get any more recharge tonight if you remain here.”

“Bumblebee’s my guardian. Shouldn’t he be taking care of me?” Sam’s tone—and really, he should have expected Sam to show up here if he was on base—was angry and petulant.

Scavenger started wailing in fright again.

“Go home, Sam. We will discuss this in the morning.” Optimus’ tone was final.

After long moments, Bumblebee could just hear the humans leaving over the sound of Scavengers fearful crying. Ironhide’s heavier steps followed them out. Optimus walked toward them, and Scavenger tried to climb into Bumblebee’s plating in order to get away.

//Hush now. Optimus won’t hurt you.//

//Prime bad. Prime mean.// Scavenger whimpered and clawed at Bumblebee trying to get away. //Prime hurt brothers! Make Bonecrusher go away forever!//

The scout couldn’t argue that Optimus hadn’t deactivated Bonecrusher, but it hadn’t been out of any sort of malice. //No, no. Optimus isn’t bad. He wants to help you get better, same as Ratchet and I.//

//No. No! Prime bad! Prime—!// Scavenger was cut off with another scream as Optimus reached out and grabbed his hands. //Nonono! Let go! Not hurt Scavenger! Scavenger be good!//

//You are hurting Bumblebee,// The Prime said gently. //And yourself. Calm down and let me look at Bumblebee’s injuries.//

The Constructicon froze and then looked at Bumblebee with horror. His optics went wide as he saw the damaged he had inflicted. //Hurt friend!//

The horror and anguish in Scavenger’s tone broke the scout’s spark. //You didn’t mean to, I know. Ironhide scares me too, sometimes.//

//Ironhide scares us all sometimes.// Optimus released Scavenger’s hands. //I do not believe there has been any lasting harm done.//

//No, sir.// Bumblebee held his arms out to Scavenger, who curled back against him immediately. //I’ve taken worse in training.//

//Still, I should at least seal the torn line in your chest before Ratchet sees it.// The Prime gave him a soft smile. //It seems wisest.//

The scout nodded. //Yes, sir.//

Scavenger protested a little as the Autobots shifted him to one side, still under Bumblebee’s arm, but away from the damaged line so that Optimus could work.

//I have news for you as well,// The larger mech said as he worked, sealing off the energon line with a proficiency that spoke of many vorns worth of field patches and first aid. //We have found Scrapper.//

Despite his mistrust of Optimus, Scavenger perked up at that. //Really?//

//Really. He was taken to a more distant salvage yard where your other brothers found him after the terrorist assault.// Optimus leaned back from his patch job and gave the Constructicon a smile. //He and your brothers are coming for you.//

Scavenger hugged Bumblebee tightly and squealed with joy.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Two days later, Bumblebee was a bit sad to see Scavenger go.

The other Constructicons had come out of the sunrise like an Earth-movie cliché, but Scavenger had been so happy to see them. There had been shrieks of joy and hugs from the injured mech and distrusting and disapproving glares from the Decepticon team. Except for one mech, who looked as happy to see Scavenger as Scavenger was to see him.

“Scrapper, I presume,” Optimus said.

The mech nodded. “Thank you, for returning our brother. Others would not have been so kind.”

Bumblebee had to agree. Scavenger had a lot of issues, and not a lot of mechs would have the patience to deal with him as a result.

Optimus opened his mouth to speak again, but Bumblebee cut him off. //We were glad to help. You all should be together.//

Scrapper nodded and rubbed the back of Scavenger’s head affectionately. “For as long as we can. I hope we do not meet again.”

The scout understood all the words unsaid by the Constructicon. If they met again in this lifetime, this fragile peace between them would be gone. //Me too. Goodbye, Scavenger.//

//Bye, Bumblebee!// Scavenger limped forward to hug him again quickly before rejoining his brothers.

“Until all are one,” Optimus intoned solemnly.

“Until then.” Scrapper turned to the other Constructicons and raised a hand. “Constructicons, return to base.”

The Autobots and their human allies watched them go, until the retreating forms were barely more than blips on their sensors.

“So that’s it then?” Sam asked. “We just gave him back, like it was nothing?”

“Had we kept him or deactivated him, we would have been no better than the Decepticons,” Optimus answered. “But this gives us all hope for the future.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of hope?”

“The kind that proves we are more than this war has made us.”  



End file.
